


post vitam.

by davesbro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Peter Parker, Gen, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secret Identity, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davesbro/pseuds/davesbro
Summary: Harry Potter is the Master of Death. After the war, Harry needs to get away from his past, and in an act of desperation he walks through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. The world he discovers on the other side is unlike anything he’s ever seen before.Peter Parker is a senior at Midtown High School. He lives with his Aunt May, “interns” at Stark Industries, and sells selfies to the Daily Bugle. He’s endlessly fascinated by the new kid in his Chemistry class.--Or, Harry Potter finds himself in the Marvel Universe and meets Peter Parker.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry opened his eyes blearily and took in his surroundings. He was on the ground in an alley, the air was cool and biting, and the rancid stench from the dumpster next to him made him scrunch his nose in disgust. **  
**

He propped himself onto his elbows and automatically checked for his wand—and there it was, secure in its holster on his right forearm. He found his mokeskin pouch a few inches away from him and quickly peered inside, taking a brief inventory of his possessions. Harry pressed his lips together, closed his bag, and struggled to his feet. Glancing down at himself, he wordlessly transfigured his simple black robes into black trousers and a mid-length black coat.

Stepping out of the alley, Harry was thankful he changed his attire. A quick glance at the crowds of people barreling down the sidewalks in waves told him that his robes would have only brought unwanted attention to himself.

Okay, he was somehow in muggle London. Harry shook himself slightly, exiting the alley when an opening in the wave of pedestrians presented itself. Maybe the Veil wasn’t some pathway into purgatory, maybe it just...teleported whoever entered it? Harry didn’t know what he expected when he walked through it, but he thought it would take him further than simply outside of the Ministry.

Observing his surroundings as he walked, Harry felt his chest become hollow. He schooled his features into a blank, bored expression and was careful not to quicken his pace. Harry was on high alert. Something was wrong.

There were no telephone booths, which was odd. Instead, the muggles were dressed strangely and seemed to be focused on tiny glowing devices that fit in the palm of their hands. Harry turned on to a less crowded road and ducked inside of a small, nearly empty coffee shop.

Harry walked up to the barista at the counter and smiled apologetically. “ _Confundo_ ,” Harry muttered.

Harry wasn’t sure how he was able to perform wandless magic, but then, he really hadn’t had much time to think about it. He had more pressing concerns at the time: Voldemort and the complete collapse of Wizarding society following Voldemort’s death. Harry noticed his magical core had expanded after becoming the Master of Death, but he hadn’t been particularly keen on discovering exactly how much the war had changed him, mentally, physically. _Magically_. So he still carried around his holly wand, perhaps more for its nostalgia than actual usefulness, if Harry was being completely honest with himself, and he didn’t investigate his full capabilities as the Master of Death. Harry had no desire to entertain yet another stupid title for himself, and was perfectly content to ignore it, thank you very much.

The barista visibly shuddered as the Confundus Charm washed over her. Disoriented, the barista blinked a few times before acknowledging Harry.  

“Wow, er, I’m sorry, I must have completely zoned out. What can I get for you today?”

Harry’s apologetic smile returned. “Er, I just placed an order for a black coffee. You were just about to pour it, actually.”

The barista flushed. “I must be really out of it today. Just a moment, sir.” She hastily poured him a large coffee and handed it to him. Harry smiled and thanked her, silently vowing to himself that he would find a way to pay her back for the free coffee he had just swindled out of her.

He paused to pick up a newspaper by the register and made his way to a small table in the corner of the café. Staring at nothing, Harry began to gather his thoughts.

_Okay_ , Harry thought to himself snidely, _so you risked everything to sneak into the Department of Mysteries and walked through the Veil because you wanted to get away from your problems._

At this, Harry paused. “What did I _do_?” he whispered. _What was I hoping to accomplish?_ Harry closed his eyes. Sirius had _died_ falling through that Veil. He knew this in the back of his mind, he knew this when he had walked through the Veil, that he wouldn’t be able to come back. Panic bubbled at the back of Harry’s throat and his eyes flew open. _What have I done? Did I seriously try to—_

Harry looked down at his hands. _No. I’m still here. Clearly I wasn’t trying to...do that._ Harry reached for his coffee and focused on the sensation of warmth radiating from the outside of the thin paper cup to his palms instead of his feeble attempts at reasoning with himself. _No_ , Harry thought, more confident now, _I’m still alive. I’m fine. I must have known that the Veil wouldn’t affect me. I'm fine._ He stared into his coffee. Golden bubbles stood uncompromisingly near the perimeter of the cup. Harry brought the cup to his lips and took a tiny sip.

_You went through the Veil to escape what was going on at home. You woke up in an alley in muggle London. London seems different than how you remember it, the muggles are all dressed strangely, and the usual entrances to the Ministry of Magic are nowhere to be found._

Harry began tapping his finger absentmindedly on the side of his coffee cup, and his gaze was directed to the newspaper he brought with him to the small table.

He nearly choked.

_January 30th, 2018?_ Harry’s heart started beating fast. _The Veil sent me 20 years into the future?!_ Harry stood quickly, coffee and newspaper forgotten, and headed towards the café’s public restroom. Locking the door behind him, he leaned against the door and closed his eyes. Picturing with exquisite clarity the small, shabby house he had once considered home in Ottery St. Catchpole, Harry disapparated.

* * *

Harry was greeted with a muggle house where the Burrow once stood. There was some sort of odd-looking minivan in the driveway (Harry briefly wondered if all automobiles looked that strange in 2018) and characteristic flashes of a telly visible through a large window on the front of the house. Harry took a few steps back. _What the hell is going on?! What happened here?_ Harry glanced around the property and took in the rolling hills and grassy fields surrounding the home. This was...this was definitely where the Burrow had once been. A wave of nausea rolled through Harry before he disapparated again.

* * *

Number 12 Grimmauld Place did not exist. Harry disapparated.

* * *

Hogsmeade Village was a series of muggle strip malls. A Starbucks stood proudly where Madam Puddifoot’s should have been, sunlight glistening off the green and white logo. Harry disapparated.

* * *

Harry returned to the café bathroom and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He staggered over to the sink and rinsed his face. He barely recognized himself in the mirror: his hair was stringy, dark shadows hung under his eyes, his skin was ashen. Harry shook himself slightly and exited the bathroom.

“Finally,” a very familiar voice muttered. Harry looked up and his mouth dropped open.

“Malfoy?” Harry whispered, incredulous. “Draco Malfoy?”

Steely eyes met his. The man was unmistakably Draco Malfoy, all perfectly styled hair and hardened eyes and pointed, aristocratic features. The man was also unmistakably _not_ Draco Malfoy—he was wearing a muggle suit, for crying out loud—and something in Harry’s face must have been truly desperate because Malfoy’s expression softened into polite disinterest.

“I’m sorry,” Malfoy drawled. “I don’t seem to recall your name. Have we met?”

Harry gaped at him. “What?! I—er, you—” He swallowed. “No. No, we haven’t,” Harry finished lamely.

Malfoy pressed a button on the side of the tiny glowing device that Harry just now noticed Malfoy was carrying. The device stopped glowing, and Harry watched as Malfoy placed it into his muggle suit pocket. “Right. Well, excuse me, then.” Malfoy made his way past Harry and entered the bathroom, leaving Harry staring, unmoving, at the space where Malfoy had just stood.

After a few moments, Harry returned to his small table in the corner of the café, his coffee cold and newspaper untouched. He sat down stiffly and tried to process what had just happened.

Harry was beginning to think that the Veil hadn’t simply transported him to the future. An icy chill ran down his spine. He was—he was probably in a different universe, a world without magic, without Voldemort or the war or the Boy Who Lived. Harry let out a shaky breath.

_Okay,_ Harry thought to himself. _I can work with this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Obligatory I'm very new to this writing thing, please be gentle.) 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this yet, but I feel like sticking angry seventeen year old war veteran Harry Potter and Peter Parker in a room together sounds like fun. I'd love to hear your thoughts. 
> 
> Next chapter: There's a new student, and Peter is super confused.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by pinot noir and my [organic chemistry](https://image.ibb.co/b4JD0c/IMG_3953.jpg) [lab notebook](https://image.ibb.co/iM2vDx/IMG_3954.jpg) from 900 years ago.

Peter was early, for once in his life. 

He sat down at his usual desk near the door and rested his head in his hand, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. _Huh_ , Peter thought to himself. _Looks like my run-in with Mysterio last night is a Twitter moment._

One by one, students started shuffling into homeroom, slinging their backpacks across their desks to use as pillows before the morning announcements began. A few of them “accidentally” shoved Peter with their backpacks as they walked past him, but Peter was used to their antics. 

He kept scrolling through his phone. Peter could knock any of these kids out with a firm tap to the forehead; they weren’t worth his time. He wished his enemies as Spider-Man were as violent as the douchebags he went to school with. 

Peter sighed. _Speaking of my enemies_ , he thought, a feeling of dread rising in his chest, _things have been...strange, lately._ It had been a couple of years since the incident with Ultron—Peter had still been in freaking middle school when that happened—and it seemed like everyone (vigilante, hero, and villain alike) was on edge. Petty crime never stopped, of course, but his major opponents seemed to be more aware of some unspoken, overdue, world-threatening evil looming over the horizon. 

The homeroom teacher was stationed at his desk at the front of the classroom, clumsily fiddling with his computer to get ready for the announcements. Betty Brant and Jason Ionello rattled off the morning news with about as much enthusiasm as a middle-aged certified public accountant before their morning coffee. 

Peter put his head down and closed his eyes.

* * *

The bell rang. 

* * *

Blearily gathering his bag, Peter left homeroom and headed to his locker. 

“Nice shirt, dude!” 

Peter and Ned had drifted down different academic paths as upperclassmen: Ned chose mostly computer science electives, while Peter opted for advanced chemistry and physics courses. As one of very few individuals who knew Peter’s secret—Tony, Happy, Toomes, Ned, Aunt May and _probably_ Michelle, even though she would never admit it—Ned and Peter remained close friends, finding time for each other despite their differing interests and Peter’s crazy schedule. 

Peter glanced down at himself. He was wearing a well-loved black t-shirt with the classic Star Wars logo printed in yellow across the chest. Ned said that to Peter every single time he wore it. 

Peter grinned in response. “Y’know, me and MJ were gonna hate watch Episode I after school today? It’s been a while. If you want to skip programming club you’re always welcome to come.”

Peter opened his locker by rote, his combination had long since been embedded into the muscles of his fingers. 

Ned’s face lit up. “Yeah, man, that sounds dope. I’ll text you before I come over?” 

Peter grabbed his lab notebook from his locker. “Sounds good, man. Where are you heading? Calc?” 

“Yeah,” Ned sighed. “We have a quiz today, pray for me.” Peter nodded solemnly, closing his locker. “You got this,” Peter said cheerfully, heading towards the natural science wing. “See you after school maybe?”

“See you after school maybe!” Ned called after him. 

Peter was one of the last students to arrive to lab. He scanned the room for an open seat, quickly sat down next to a kid Peter had never seen before, and pulled out his lab notebook and a pen. The bell rang, and Mr. Harrington clasped his hands together excitedly. 

“Good morning, class!” Mr. Harrington began. “You might have noticed we have a new student joining us today! Harry, will you please stand and say your name, where you’re from, and an interesting fact about yourself to the class?”

Twenty four pairs of eyes landed on the new kid sitting next to Peter, who looked like he would rather do _literally anything else_ than what Mr. Harrington asked. The new kid, _Harry_ , Peter silently corrected, clenched his fists and stood up. 

“My name is Harry Potter,” he began. Excited murmurs erupted throughout the class. Peter could pick up a gaggle of girls in the back of the classroom whispering “oh my god, he’s _British_ ,” and “oh my god, I _know_ , right?” Peter just _barely_ suppressed an eye roll. 

“I’m from Surrey, England,” Harry continued, “which is, er, south of London,” he finished, somewhat awkwardly, and began to sit down. 

“And an interesting fact about yourself? Mr. Harrington asked. 

Peter watched as Harry froze. He straightened, eyes staring at nothing, his mouth parted slightly. Peter saw about a dozen emotions flicker across Harry’s face before he closed his mouth, swallowed, and looked around the room calmly. His eyes landed on Peter’s, and then he glanced down at Peter’s shirt. 

Harry turned to Mr. Harrington, who was looking at him expectantly. “I know absolutely nothing about Star Wars,” he replied coolly, and sat down. 

Peter glanced at Harry, curiosity piqued. _Weird_. 

Mr. Harrington jumped into the lesson, scrawling reaction mechanisms on the dry erase board at the front of the classroom. 

“...Anyone want to guess what happens when sulfuric acid is added to the nitric acid?” Mr. Harrington was answered with utter silence and turned to the class. “No? How about you, Harry?”

Peter snuck a glance at Harry. Poor kid. Singled out already. “Shit,” Harry muttered quietly to himself, putting his pen down. “Er…” He cleared his throat and stared directly at Mr. Harrington. 

Peter could barely hear what Harry said next, even with his enhanced hearing, but it sounded a whole lot like “legends” or “lemons” or something. “Er,” Harry repeated intelligently before narrowing his eyes and continuing, “the sulfuric acid is the stronger acid, so it protonates the nitric acid at the alcohol group. Then the water molecule leaves, and it rearranges into the nitronium ion?”

Peter watched as Harry immediately broke eye contact, clenching his jaw almost imperceptibly. 

Mr. Harrington smiled encouragingly. “Alright, now is the nitronium ion a good nucleophile or electrophile?”

There was a brief pause. “...Electrophile?” 

“You are correct! Alright, everyone, turn to page 37 of your lab manuals, today we’re going to be working on electrophilic aromatic substitution reactions…”

Peter let his mind wander. He had been experimenting with benzene derivatives since his freshman year—it’s not like he could produce web fluid _organically_ —Peter hid a smile at this. Technically, he _had_ produced web fluid organically...using organic compounds, at least. But Peter had synthesized web fluid on Aunt May’s kitchen floor at four o’clock in the morning half-conscious with three broken ribs and a concussion, so he figured he’d be okay half-paying attention to the safety precautions for lab. 

“...Remember that nitric acid is a strong oxidizing agent, so don’t mix…”

Peter couldn’t escape the feeling of dread at the pit of his stomach. There was something off when he fought with Mysterio last night: it was like Mysterio was tense, distracted. _And Mysterio wasn’t the only one that seemed off his A-game_ , Peter speculated, tapping his pen against his desk. _Sandman, Electro, and Doc Ock seemed almost panicked these past few months...what the hell is going on?_

“...Don’t want to lose another one. No open flames, if I see a Bunsen burner so help me God…”

Even the Avengers seemed distracted. Peter wasn’t _technically_ supposed to know this, but he’s heard whispers of Infinity Stones and some unknown evil lurking somewhere in the galaxy. Peter wasn’t really sure what that had to do with anything— _I mean_ , Peter thought, _it’s not like some super powerful evil force is going to single out earth, of all places_ —but Peter figured if the Avengers were on edge, something terrible was about to happen. 

Mr. Harrington walked up to Peter’s lab desk. “Peter, why don’t you partner up with Harry for this one?”  Mr. Harrington paused, glancing at Harry. “Peter will show you where the reagents are and how to structure your lab report, but if you have any questions, you can always come see me after class.” 

Peter snapped out of his thoughts and turned to Harry. “Uh, well, I guess we’re working together, want to go grab some gloves and safety goggles while I get the glassware out? ” 

Harry shrugged. “Sure.”

When Harry returned to their lab desk with his personal protective equipment, he picked up an erlenmeyer flask and inspected it like he had never seen one before in his life. “Just so you know,” he began, running his thumb against the 10 mL marking on the side of the flask, “I’m not so great at science.”

Peter looked at him curiously. “You seemed to know a lot about electrophile formation!” 

“Er, right. Lucky guess?” 

Peter smiled at him. “Well, this lab isn’t too difficult. All of the instructions are in the lab manual, so if we follow them we should be okay.” 

Peter and Harry got to work. Harry worked quietly and diligently, Peter noticed, double checking his lab manual before adding reagents. Harry paused at each step of the experiment, asking Peter in slightly frantic tones “is it supposed to be doing that?” and “this is the right color, right?” and at one point Peter had to laugh a little. 

“I hate to imagine what your old chemistry teacher was like, if you’re _this_ worried about lab,” Peter joked, snickering a little. 

“You really don’t want to know,” Harry muttered. 

The world seemed to slow to a stop when someone dropped a beaker. The sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the entire room, and Peter’s first reaction was to huff out a frustrated sigh. _Someone probably added ethanol to their nitric acid and freaked out and dropped their beaker_ , he guessed, eyes rolling skyward. 

Then Peter noticed Harry. 

Harry was very still. All of the blood had drained from Harry’s face, his fists were clenched by his sides, and his breathing was rapid and shallow. He looked like he was a million miles away. 

“Harry?” Peter asked cautiously. He swallowed. “It’s okay, man,” he muttered. Harry slowly turned to look at Peter, his eyes wide and panicked. 

Peter never noticed how vibrant his eyes were. He tuned out the chaos slowly bubbling throughout the rest of the classroom—Mr. Harrington’s _“What happened? Don’t touch the glass!”_ and a student’s _“I don’t know! It just started turning orange and it got really hot and…”_ —and focused on the sound of Harry’s pounding heartbeat. 

“It’s okay,” Peter repeated, more sure of himself now. “Someone just broke some glass,” he said. Harry blinked a few times and pressed his lips together. 

“Right,” Harry said simply, relaxing slightly. “Right. Sorry about that. Must have zoned out for a minute there. Where were we?” 

They finished the lab with relative ease. Their product yield was fairly low, which seemed to trouble Harry immensely, but Peter reassured him that yields are pretty much _always_ low in orgo. 

Peter was shoving his lab notebook into his backpack when he cleared his throat. “You’ve seriously never seen Star Wars?”

Harry chuckled. “Nope. Haven’t the foggiest what it’s about, to be honest.” 

“Well, uh, me and a few friends were going to come over to my place to watch Episode I after school if you want to join us? We could start our lab report after the movie, if you’re free?”

Harry shot him a cursory glance before responding. “Sure. Why not.”

Peter grinned. “What’s your number? I’ll text you my address.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his cheeks tinged pink. “Er, I don’t have a phone,” he muttered. 

Peter looked at him like he grew another head. _What?!_

“What?!”

“Technology seems to hate me,” Harry drawled, but Peter was already tearing off a piece of his lab manual and scribbling his address. 

Peter pushed the piece of paper into Harry’s hand. “See you after school, maybe?” Peter asked, his voice small and hopeful. 

Harry offered him a lazy smile. “Of course, mate.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy smokes. I am so blown away by the response this has gotten. Thank you all so much for taking time out of your day to read this.
> 
> Does anyone remember that scene in Spider-Man: Homecoming where Peter spelled [toluene](https://image.ibb.co/bFMdix/Web_Fluid_Version_3_01_Notes.png) wrong? (It's haunted me since I saw it in theaters.) 
> 
> Next chapter will resume Harry's POV.


	3. Chapter 3

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...._

Harry was beginning to regret his life choices. 

He thought that distancing himself from his past in Wizarding Britain would be the best choice for himself moving forward, but he hadn’t anticipated quite how _difficult_ it would be. Harry had, of course, in a rather Gryffindor-ish fit of reasoning, decided that if he was going to start over and move on with his life, he might as well go big or go home. 

_Not that going home is a possibility_ , Harry had reckoned warily. But he was _here_ , he was _alive_ , and, well, he had to do _something_ with his life. He figured he would occupy his time studying science because he needed a drastic change of pace and science was pretty much the furthest thing from magic Harry could think of. While Harry would never give up magic or stop practicing it (it was too much a part of himself and too bloody _useful_ ), it wouldn’t hurt to learn a marketable skill. 

_Turmoil has engulfed the Galactic Republic..._

America was probably the furthest English-speaking country from England Harry was willing to travel to. _To hell with Australia_ , Harry had thought to himself, back when he was deciding what he would do with himself after arriving in this new universe. _I’ve dealt with enough deadly beasts trying to kill me, thanks._

New York had seemed like the logical choice. The city was large enough that Harry could become little more than a face in a crowd—he was sure he’d be a novelty at first, all new students with accents were—but he was equally sure that he would eventually lose his luster: sooner or later students would realize that he was no longer new and shiny and interesting. He could fade into the background and bask in the anonymity.

_...Hoping to resolve the matter with a blockade of deadly battleships, the greedy Trade Federation has stopped all shipping to the small planet of Naboo..._

Getting there was a guilt-laced series of Confundus Charms, Disillusionment Charms, three Obliviates, and one Imperio on the poor gentleman that owned the apartment building Harry was now residing at. Harry swore to himself that he would find a job and pay that man every penny he owed him for rent, but for now, he swallowed his guilt and focused on reinventing himself.

_...the Supreme Chancellor has secretly dispatched two Jedi Knights, the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy, to settle the conflict….._

This could be an opportunity for Harry to create a legacy for himself, something completely untied to the actions of his parents or convoluted prophecies. He would have a chance to be with other kids his age without the threat of war and death and destruction looming over his shoulder. He could be himself. Be normal. He could be just Harry, for once in his damn life. 

Unfortunately, however, Harry had _grossly_ misjudged how challenging muggle high school would be. He figured he’d just be able to, y’know, wing it, and everything would be fine. _Nope_ , Harry thought miserably. _Resorting to Legilimency on the first day. Great work, Potter._ Harry let out a short, frustrated breath and refocused on the movie. 

_“The Chancellor should have never brought them into this. Kill them, immediately.”_

_"Yes...yes, My Lord. As you wish.”_

Harry tore his eyes from the screen and looked at the three muggles in the room. His chest tightened uncomfortably. Peter, Ned, and Michelle reminded Harry of his days at Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione, back when they were too young to fully comprehend how dangerous their lives were about to become. Harry sighed, trying not to think too hard about the friends that he had left behind. _Merlin, Darth Sidious is an even dumber name than Lord Voldemort._

A shrill alarm filled the room. Harry watched as Peter, Michelle, and Ned all instinctively reached for their mobile phones. _Odd_ , Harry thought, frowning. _Why do they all have an alarm set for the middle of th—_

“Damn,” Ned commented quietly. “Dr. Doom’s hitting the Baxter Building.”

_Was...was that alarm some kind of emergency alert system? Merlin, that would’ve been bloody useful during Voldemort’s raids...Muggles are scary impressive in the future_ , Harry thought to himself, pressing his lips together in a firm line. 

“Uh!” Peter stood quickly. “I, uh, just remembered Aunt May wanted me to pick up some milk before she got home from work today! Uh, you guys can keep watching the movie?” He pocketed his phone and hurried to the door. “Gotta go, bye!”

The door slammed behind Peter. Ned and Michelle looked at each other tiredly for a few long seconds.

Michelle turned to Harry, rubbing her eyes. “Harry, do you mind if we pause this for a little bit and turn on the news?”

Harry blinked. “Er, sure,” he responded. Ned turned on the local news and Harry sat back on the couch and exhaled heavily. _What the—_

Shaky footage showed a small army of cloaked figures attacking a building in Manhattan. A large section of the upper floors had been blown off: smoke was billowing into the sky, crowds of people below were running frantically from the scene. Harry only half-listened to the newscaster, trying to comprehend what he was seeing on the news. 

_“...issued a warning for all citizens are advised to stay clear of the Baxter Building…”_

That’s when Harry noticed the fire shooting across the sky. 

_“....appears the Fantastic Four have arrived at the scene…”_

The fire seemed to stop in midair. It looked, well, vaguely human shaped. _Merlin_. Harry tore his eyes from the television. 

“Is...is this _real_?” Harry asked, a little shaken. 

Michelle glanced at him. “Welcome to New York, loser. If it isn’t aliens, it’s probably an asshole Latverian overlord trying to take out Manhattan.” 

Harry’s mouth was dry. _What_.

“What.” 

Ned looked at Harry curiously. “Dude, have you been living under a rock?” _Does the inside of a cupboard count?_ “The Incident was international news, man.” 

_“...proceed to the nearest emergency shelter. This just in—it appears Spider-Man has shown up to assist…”_

A red and blue blur appeared in the corner of the screen, swinging into the scene from what Harry assumed was some kind of rope. The newcomer immediately punched a Doombot in the face. 

_Merlin_. “What is _that_?” 

Ned and Michelle shared a look. 

“An idiot,” Michelle drawled. Ned rolled his eyes. “That’s Spider-Man. He’s, uh, a superhero?”

“He’s a _what_?!”

Ned groaned. “Aw, c’mon man, not you too,” he said, misunderstanding Harry completely. “You seriously buy into that Daily Bugle crap? I mean, yeah, Spider-Man is _technically_ a vigilante,” Ned’s voice dropped to an excited whisper. “But I heard rumors that he was offered a job with the Avengers.”  


It was Michelle’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah? And where’d you hear that? Your Official Spider-Man Fan Club message board?” 

“Er, guys, do you reckon Peter’s alright out there with all of this—” Harry gestured to the television “—going on?”

Ned’s eyes flickered to the tv. “Yeah,” Ned said slowly. “He’ll be okay.” 

“All New Yorkers are used to this, to an extent,” Michelle added. 

On the screen, a man in blue stretched to inhuman lengths. An orange rock monster clobbered. Fire danced across the sky. A woman blinked in and out of perception. A masked man in red and blue caught a car with his bare hands. 

_...New Yorkers are used to this?_

Harry leaned back into the couch and ran a hand through his hair. He’d—he’d have to do more research on this world, because clearly it was more different than he’d realized. _Maybe I can convince Michelle or Peter to show me where the public library is._ Harry sighed wistfully. _Hermione would be so proud._

About forty minutes later, Peter returned, carrying a gallon of milk loosely at his side. 

“Hoo boy was the line at the corner store long today!” Peter said loudly, heading toward the kitchen. Harry stared as he put the milk away. 

Peter’s hair was slightly singed. His movements were sluggish and clumsy and when he walked he seemed to be favoring his left side. He flopped onto the couch beside Harry and sunk into the cushions. 

“Aw, you guys didn’t have to pause the movie,” Peter commented, his tone radiating guilt. 

Michelle folded her arms and stuck her tongue out at Peter. Ned snatched the remote and resumed the movie. 

Harry found himself experiencing difficulty focusing on the plot. 

The Sith Order and the Jedi Order reminded Harry of Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix. 

Yoda reminded Harry of a smaller, greener Dumbledore. 

Jar Jar Binks reminded Harry vaguely of Dobby, except infinitely more annoying. 

He shoved his memories into a dark corner of his mind. 

_You can’t go back. Stop thinking about it._ Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment. He needed to find out more about this world. He needed to find a job. He needed to catch up on muggle academics and he needed to—

Harry realized how fast his heart was pounding and tried to steady his breathing. He snuck a glance at the muggles and noticed Peter was looking at him curiously. _Bugger_. He must have noticed something in Harry’s expression because Peter frowned and mouthed, ‘are you okay?’ at Harry. Harry paused before nodding, and immediately Peter responded with finger guns and turned back toward the television. 

* * *

“Damn,” Michelle deadpanned when the credits began to roll. “What a movie.”

“Tell me about it!” Peter agreed happily, choosing to ignore Michelle’s sarcasm. 

“A truly iconic cinematic masterpiece,” Ned supplied solemnly. Harry snorted. “I mean, yeah, the prequels are trash, but they’re such _good_ trash.”

Peter stood and stretched. “Hey, so Harry and I need to work on our lab report, anyone want to stick around and have a homework party?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcastic enthusiasm.

“Yeah, no,” Michelle responded, standing and grabbing her coat. “That’s my cue to leave. Later, losers.”

Ned snickered. “As much as I’d love to stick around and watch you do your homework, I think I’m gonna pass, man.” Ned paused at the door and waved at Peter and Harry. “See you guys tomorrow!”

Harry coughed awkwardly after Ned left. “Looks like it’s just you and me, mate. Want to get started?” 

Peter grinned.

"Alright, so Harrington is _super_ crazy about lab reports. First, you’re gonna need to start with the abstract…”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm...not really happy with this chapter. This whole month has been so off. 
> 
> Did you all go see Black Panther? Did you love it?
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely comments and support. Next chapter: Harry meets Spider-Man.


End file.
